


Just Can't Get Enough

by shinigami_yumi



Category: Warriors Orochi
Genre: Cannibalism, Implied Sexual Content, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Memories, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 07:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19001242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami_yumi/pseuds/shinigami_yumi
Summary: Taigong Wang provokes Shuten Douji in hopes of triggering the recovery of the oni's memories.





	Just Can't Get Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whimsicott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicott/gifts).



> I actually started writing this a while back. It was supposed to be part of a longer story, ostensibly about building the Yashiori, before I got distracted by other projects. I don't know if I'll expand on it, but [whimsicott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicott/pseuds/whimsicott) wanted to read it anyway, so here it is! I hope you enjoy. ♡

Humans are such strange creatures. They seem at ease enough having a demon like me in their midst, but are uneasy around each other. Sometimes, they help bitter enemies; sometimes, they are cold to friends. I also observe that they often don’t say what they mean or mean what they say. I wonder if the same applies to Mystics.

Taigong Wang says he will help me, but it has been many days since I last heard from him. Here, I have no orders, only occasional requests, little to do unless I wish it, and I… don’t know what I want. Mostly, I sit by the fire, drinking and trying to remember. Sometimes, the humans join me, but mostly, they are trying to forget.

I could have stayed with the demons for this. At least, there, their commands give me purpose. There, a mind-numbing brawl is never far away.

Taigong Wang is wasting my time.

The thought brings something back, something old and long lost. I can’t name it, but it makes me want to hurt him.

 

I’m walking past a tent in the human camp when I hear Kaguya speaking. “Lord Taigong Wang, pardon my curiosity and I do not mean to pry, but about your research… I cannot help but notice that you have barely seen Shuten Douji since he came with us. Have you already found that which you seek?”

“Worry not, Kaguya,” comes the answer in that familiar airy, condescending voice. “The design of a weapon to combat the Hydra is progressing well in my omniscient and omnipotent hands. As for what I need from Shuten Douji, you know as well as I do that memories are only of use when their owner wishes them found. When he desires strongly enough to remember, he will come to me.”

I feel a creeping simmer in my blood that is nothing like the satisfying burn I get from every swing of my gourd on the battlefield. I cling to it, this one _feeling_ amidst the emptiness, that flicker in my head; I reach for it. But just as I grasp at it, it vanishes. Nothing.

I growl in frustration.

Sometimes, when I am fighting, the burning in my blood flares into a boil, and I catch a flash of… something. But always, _always_ , it slips just out of my grasp, and try as I might, no matter how hard I fight or how many I kill, I can’t recall even that first glimpse. So I keep fighting, I let the demons command me. Maybe, just maybe, the next time, I’ll remember.

When Kaguya leaves, I enter, not even bothering to stoop for the low entrance.

“You have come. Finally,” the Mystic remarks from where he lies reclined on a pile of cushions on a futon, completely unfazed by the shaking of the tent around us. “I thought you would.”

“You knew I was outside,” I realize, setting my gourd down.

Grey eyes are cool, indulgent, patronizing. “Naturally.”

I want to hurt him, tear him to pieces, and— no. No, not yet. “You already have the answer I seek.”

“As I said, the answer you seek lies within you. I can but tell you a story. Until you see it in your mind and acknowledge it in your being, that is all it will be.”

I want to break him, crush him, not with my gourd, but with my bare hands. I try to fuel this feeling, but I don’t know how. I ball my hands into fists. “You said you can help me.”

A smirk curls those proud, proud lips. “I can.”

“You said you _will_ help me,” I try.

“I will.”

I snatch him by the collar and try not to throttle him too hard. “Then do it. Stop wasting time.”

The boy doesn’t even bat an eye. “Not enough,” he murmurs, letting himself dangle bonelessly from my grip. “It’s not enough.”

“What is?”

“Your desire. Even now, it is not the foremost thing on your mind.”

There’s that simmer again, now almost a boil, and _flash_. There’s something. It’s so close, I can almost taste it, and Taigong Wang can catch it.

“Do it!” I shake him like a weightless doll. “Now!”

It’s as if a spark ignites in those cold grey eyes. “Show me,” he says, suddenly commanding. “Show me the strength of your desire.”

I growl. “How?”

That arrogant smirk grows impossibly wider. “What do you want?”

“To know.”

“Now. What do you want now?”

“I just told you!”

“You can’t hide from me, Shuten Douji.” He laughs, and it’s like lava gushing into my veins. “Do it.”

I want to rip him apart, shred by shred by shred until he can’t make that maddening sound, until he’s screaming and in pieces, and his blood is on my lips and my hands and my—

“DO IT!”

I roar, throwing him to the ground, and the snap of bones cracking lights a fire in my core. I pounce at the fragile creature before me and sink my claws into his tender flesh. He gasps. I force his legs apart to tear him in two, and warm blood spatters on my face when my fingers pierce all the way through his chest. I lick my lips.

_There_.

Suddenly, I’m in a familiar hall, and there’s a dark-haired youth in my lap. Pieces of him are missing, and his sweet warm blood is running down my arms. I lean down to take another bite, and it’s the most exquisite taste in the world, more delicious even than the finest sake in the realms.

Something snaps, and I can’t stop. Every bite seems to curl into me, filling me with heat, with _power_. I press into him, taking more, _wanting_ more, and when slender fingers tangle in my hair, one hand closing around my left horn, I groan, sucking at the blood and the juices spilling into my mouth from succulent flesh. The boy jerks, crying out softly beside my ear, and with a jolt, I’m back.

The tent is dim, the fumes of sulfur are thick in the air, and the white-haired Mystic is bleeding in my arms.

I drop him in shock.

Taigong Wang sighs, weary and satisfied all at once, purple light enveloping him as he languidly arches off the bloodstained futon into a sitting position. When the light fades, he is whole again, and even his robes are pristine, as if he’d just materialized here from the Mystic Realm.

I look down at my hands. They’re still covered in blood, _his_ blood. “What w— What have I—”

“Why did you stop?” he asks softly, ignoring my confusion as he rises to his feet.

“I… I wish I’d never started,” I whisper, staring at the bloodstained claws and dark red scales.

He comes to stand before me and cards his fingers through my hair. “That is called remorse,” he explains with a knowing smile. Then he’s leaning forward to lick his blood clean from my mouth, and all at once, the tension evaporates and my knees buckle beneath me. “Shuten Douji,” he drawls, withdrawing his hand and sounding pleased. “As I expected, you will be of great use to me.” He drifts out, leaving me kneeling on the ground alone inside the tent. I look down.

My hands look human again.

 

No one seems to have noticed what happened in the tent with Taigong Wang. Or perhaps if they know of it, it does not bother them. The latter seems unlikely, which means he has kept the truth from them. I suppose I should be thankful. The last thing the humans need to know is that they are my staple food, although I expect that some of them have long harboured that suspicion based on the stories they have heard. Yet, even now, the desire to consume humans has not returned. I recall the taste of their flesh, and it is… plain.

Instead, it is the sweetness I tasted that night that haunts my mind, that lingers teasingly on my lips like the flick of his tongue, that no amount of sake I drink can wash away.

The taste of Taigong Wang.

I probably won’t taste it again.

I remember now though. I remember sitting at the head of a hall, surrounded by demons like myself, my followers. I remember young human maidens quaking in fear or grief as they served us sake while we feasted on their fathers, brothers or suitors. This was… shortly after the demise of Orochi, perhaps. For now, it is enough to know that the memories are there. The rest will come in time.

When I next run into Taigong Wang, I tell him I will repay his kindness. He says the thought of receiving a demon’s gratitude is a frightening one. I suppose he has a point. Then the only way left to me is to be useful to him.

I shove the memory of his taste to the back of my head.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> All feedback always appreciated. ♡


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